elena couldn't breathe.

her lungs burned, begging for air. the water was ink black, a shroud suffocating her, gleefully wrapping her in its deadly grasp and grinning all the while.

the fight was going out of her with every passing second. she was tired, so tired. the effort of unclipping her seatbelt had taken on the insurmountable height of everest. her fingers fumbled, her eyesight dimmed.

and she knew with absolute certainty that she was going to die.

by the time strong hands clasped her shoulders and dragged her though the open window of the car into the murky darkness of the lake, elena had lost consciousness.

damon had elena by the shoulders, his hands clenching with bruising force, panic mounting. she wasn't breathing, and she wasn't waking. he had a sudden vision of freddy krueger's striped sweater looming invisibly over elena in her sleep, and he was filled with the irrational conviction that she'd never wake.

fuck that. not on his watch - not on anyone's.

with more roughness than he'd intended, damon clamped elena's nostrils shut; in response her jaw automatically dropped. he was just lowering his mouth to hers with some crazed notion of attempting CPR when her lids fluttered open.

tears were pouring down her face as she stared up at him through blank, unseeing eyes.

she was shaking violently, and damon took a seat beside her on the bed, ready to soothe, ready to hold her and rock her and make it all okay again. he was about to slip an arm around the too-hot skin of her bare back - she'd been fighting the covers desperately before she'd gone so terribly still - when she spoke.

"you saved me," she gasped out between her sobs. "you saved me, stefan."

damon's whole body went rigid. elena was still crying, unaware of his reaction, probably unaware that she'd even spoken, when damon released her.

he rose from the bed, moving with uncharacteristic stiffness. there was a half-full carafe of water on the desk across the room, and he forced his hands to remain steady as he poured her a glass.

you saved me, stefan...

he took a slow breath and returned to the bedside, but this time he crouched beside it and spoke in low, distant tones.

"elena. you're okay, elena. you were having a nightmare." even through the depths of his own pain, her weeping wrenched his heart. she'd drawn her knees to her chest and looped her arms around them, burying her head and rocking back and forth, back and forth. "elena, stop it." he fought to keep his voice gentle and reached for her hand, needing the contact, needing the connection, but when his fingers skimmed hers she jerked upright, away from his touch, away from him.

damon withdrew instantly, set the cup of water on the bedside table with a hard click of porcelain against shining oak. he started to move toward the door, the same door he'd nearly ripped off its hinges when he'd heard her cry, then spun back toward her, angry and frustrated and filled with black, bleak sadness.

despite his own torment, he just couldn't leave her to her tears, and this time when he spoke, his words were clipped. "snap out of it, elena." when she didn't respond, he grabbed the loose braid she'd slept in and gave it a sharp yank. "snap the hell out of it," he commanded, catching her chin in his hand and looking at her with blazing blue eyes. "you're stronger than this bullshit."

he didn't need to compel her; his eyes alone were capable of hypnotizing anyone who held his gaze for too long. blinking slowly, elena's eyes came into focus, still bright with tears, still dark with pain.

"damon," she whispered. "oh, god, damon."

and then she was reaching for him, for the warmth of his arms, for the safety of his embrace. the need was so clear in her eyes, on her face, the need for tenderness, for comfort. so he sat beside her again, and this time when he put his arm around her she leaned into his touch, pressed her damp cheek to the warmth of his bare chest. her sobs were quieter now as she held him tight.

"you're okay, elena," he said softly, rubbing her back with long strokes of his broad palm. "i'm right here." me, he thought bitterly, not stefan. but he kept his tone and his touch gentle. "i won't let anything happen to you."

"i know," she whispered. "i know. you're a salvatore. savior. my savior."

her earlier words replayed in his head, over and over and over. when he responded, his voice was very level.

"well, i'm one of them, anyway."

you saved me, stefan...